Category Archives: Seasonal

I’m happy to inform you that the company Christmas Party will take place on December 23, starting at noon in the banquet room at Luigi’s Open Pit Barbecue. No-host bar, but plenty of eggnog! We’ll have a small band playing traditional carols — feel free to sing along. And don’t be surprised if our CEO shows up dressed as Santa Claus!

In no way was yesterday’s memo intended to exclude our Jewish employees. We recognize that Chanukah is an important holiday which often coincides with Christmas, though unfortunately not this year. However, from now on we’re calling it our “Holiday Party.” The same policy applies to employees who are celebrating Kwanzaa at this time. Happy
now?

Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous requesting a non-drinking table … you didn’t sign your name. I’m happy to accommodate this request, but if I put a sign on a table that reads, “AA Only”; you wouldn’t be anonymous anymore. How am I supposed to handle this? Somebody?

What a diverse company we are! I had no idea that December 20 begins the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which forbids eating, drinking and intimacy during daylight hours. There goes the party! Seriously, we can appreciate how a luncheon this time of year does not accommodate our Muslim employees’ beliefs. Perhaps Luigi’s can hold off on serving your meal until the end of the party-the days are so short this time of year-or else package everything for take-home in little foil swans. Will that work? Meanwhile, I’ve arranged for members of Overeaters Anonymous to sit farthest from the dessert buffet and pregnant women will get the table closest to the restrooms. Did I miss anything?

So December 22 marks the Winter Solstice…what do you expect me to do, a tap-dance on your heads? Fire regulations at Luigi’s prohibit the burning of sage by our “earth-based
Goddess-worshipping” employees, but we’ll try to accommodate your shamanic drumming circle during the band’s breaks. Okay???

People, people, nothing sinister was intended by having our CEO dress up like Santa Claus! Even if the anagram of “Santa” does happen to be “Satan,” there is no evil connotation to our own “little man in a red suit.” It’s a tradition, folks, like sugar
shock at Halloween or family feuds over the Thanksgiving turkey or broken hearts on Valentine’s Day. Could we lighten up?

Vegetarians!?!?!? I’ve had it with you people!!! We’re going to keep this party at Luigi’s Open Pit Barbecue whether you like it or not, so you can sit quietly at the table furthest from the “grill of death,” as you so quaintly put it, and you’ll get your #$%^&*! salad bar, including hydroponic tomatoes…but you know, they have feelings, too. Tomatoes scream when you slice them. I’ve heard them scream, I’m hearing them scream right now!

I’m sure I speak for all of us in wishing Pat Smith a speedy recovery from her stress-related illness and I’ll continue to forward your cards to her at the sanitarium. In the meantime, management has decided to cancel our Holiday Party and give everyone the afternoon of the 23rd off with full pay. Happy Chanuk-Kwanzaa-Solsti-Rama-Mas.

Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir truncated, mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with bows of holly; stocking hung by the chimney with care.

You really think someone’s been here?

Someone, or something.

Mulder, over here, It’s fruitcake.

Don’t touch it! Those things can be lethal!

There’s a note attached: “gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.”

It’s judging them, Scully. It’s making a list.

Who? What are you talking about?

Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year just after the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.

But that’s legend, Mulder, a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don’t believe it?

Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive and in a hurry.

It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder this milk glass has been completely drained.

It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.

But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.

But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There’s no sign of forced entry.

Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.

Wait a minute, Mulder. If you’re saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down this chimney, you’re crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide, nothing could get through there.

But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?

You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?

Exactly. …Scully, I’ve never told anyone this but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white shanks of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshaped head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I’ll never forget the horror. I turned away and, when I looked back, it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.

Impossible.

I know what I saw. And that night, it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato Head.

I’m sorry, Mulder, but you’re asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you’re saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out they’ll close the X-files.

Scully, listen to me: It knows when you’re sleeping. It knows when you’re awake.
But we have no proof.

Last year on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected a bogey in the airspace over twenty seven states. The White House ordered a condition red.

But that was a meteor shower.

Officially. Two days ago eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Washington D.C. Nobody, not even the zoo keeper was told about it. The government doesn’t want people to know about Project Kringle.

They fear that if this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There’s too much at stake.. They’ll do what ever it takes to insure another silent night.

Mulder…

Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear? On the roof. It sounds like … a clatter.

Steal a life size nativity scene and display it in your room. When your roommate asks, tell him/her, “I had to let them stay here, there’s no room at the inn.”

When your roommate goes to the bathroom, rearrange his/her possessions. Tell him/her that Santa’s elves must have done it.

Take some miniature marshmallows and put them in a little baggie. Attach a note to the bag that has a picture of a snow man and this poem:
‘You have been naughty, and here’s the scoop:
All you get is the snowman’s poop!’
Or you could have a picture of a reindeer with cocoa puffs for reindeer poop for your roommate.